Hello Goodbye
by Kitiaria
Summary: Chapter 5: "It appeared, as always from the darkest corner, a great hulking figure of a dog, a yawning black emptiness where it's body stood on the ratty carpet."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is my first attempt at writing a Leverage fic, please tell me if you think I have the characters all wrong...and I hope you like it!**

**Hello Goodbye.**

"Parker," Eliot barked, "We are not. I repeat, we are** _not _**going to rob a bank just because you're bored! Nate agreed that we should have some downtime to rest up before-"

"Eliot," She whined in cutting him off midsentence, "downtime's boring!" She slammed her palm down on the bar counter, smashing the bar's complimentary peanuts as if to illustrate her point. "What else am I supposed to do, huh? Sit around eating peanuts and pretzels for two weeks? I'm a thief. I thieve. End of story-"

"**Parker**!"

"-And asking me not to steal is like...asking you not to punch people or asking Hardison not to play on World of Warcraft or something." She folded her arms and nodded, looking immensely pleased with her irrefutable logic.

"Hardison," Eliot, growled shoving the younger man, "For pity's sake talk some sense into her or something,"

"Hey, don't look at me man," The hacker responded not looking up from his phone, "I'm not touching this one. If stopping Parker from stealing some priceless ancient artifacts is gonna stop me from my weekly World o' Warcraft marathon then hell, Parker can steal the frickin Lourve if she wants. Ain't my business."

"Yes!" Parker crowed.

"No! Not helpin' man." Eliot growled, holding his beer bottle against his head. All this scheming was making his brain hurt. Was it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet, although why Eliot thought he was going to get any semblance of peace and quiet in a bar was questionable to say the least.

He swigged the last of his beer and motioned for the bartender. He was just about to order a double whiskey to steel himself for the next round of what Eliot liked to call "The stop-Parker-from-stealing-the-world-and-subsequently-killing-all-of-Eliot's-patience Job", when he heard that all too familiar drawl from across the bar.

"Spencer!" The voice yelled and Eliot stiffened, mouth open, words stuck in his throat.

Parker being Parker noticed.

_Shit_. Eliot thought. _Fuck. Shitfuck. What the hell was-_

"Eliot, what-" She began but stuttered to a halt when she saw the thunderous expression on his face. She nudged Hardison as if for backup as he slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling the crushed peanuts and empty beer bottles.

Eliot heard a startled "huh?" as he swivelled on his stool and stood up to glare into the crowd.

"Spencer!" the voice came again and Eliot growled as he came into view.

"Winchester." He spat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Eliot, man who–" Hardison began, but like Parker fumbled to a stop when Eliot stepped forward and shoved the other man.

"Going by Eliot still, huh?" He drawled, smirking, seemingly unfazed by Eliot's shove and Eliot wanted to punch him in the face. He watched as the man unfolded his arms, and jerked his chin as if to say, _come on then, boy_. The punch Winchester aimed at his nose Eliot dodged with ease, but the second one for his jaw, connected and sent Eliot sprawling against the bar and Hardison.

Hardison spluttered, yelling something that Eliot couldn't understand through the haze of red that had fallen over him, grinned and said: "You really wanna start something with me? Now, boy?"

"Fuck you, Spencer. It's high time someone kicked your ass for a change!" He retorted, green eyes narrowed, lips quirked to the side in a half smirk.

Eliot smirked back, stepping forwards and shaking off the restraining hands of Parker and Hardison, and pulled his fists up, "Come on then."

"Eliot man! Wait, what the hell are ya doing?"

"Sparky!"

"Yeah, come on 'Sparky'," Winchester laughed, pulling his jacket off, "Or have you gone soft since the last time I saw you? Can't take out, lil ol' me?" He fluttered his eyelashes and pouted his lips.

"Fuck you." Eliot growled and lunged. Eliot's fist connected high on Winchester's cheekbone, and the younger man laughed.

"Don't hold back on my account, Sparkers!"

Eliot smiled, quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

* * *

Parker frowned as Eliot took another punch to the face and blood began to drip from his nose. She nudged Hardison with her elbow and whispered, "Do something."

"What?" Hardison's face twisted in horror, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Grab the other guy from behind. Look, look, see he's turning away from us now. Grab him."

She shoved Hardison towards the pair and he stumbled, muttering under his breath. He ducked and swore when a fist came a little too close to his face, glaring at Parker who simply nodded encouragingly. Hardison took at deep breath, reaching for all the hand-to-hand combat training Eliot had managed to drill into him and waited for his opportunity. It came in the form of a punch to the ribs.

Eliot's fist whipped out, lightening fast and jabbed the other man in the side and he stumbled backwards, right into Hardison's waiting arms. He wrapped his arm around the throat of the other man, pulling tightly, to incapacitate him.

"Ah, come on now." The guy groaned, "You gonna get your team to hold me down? Not cool man."

"Hardison, dammit! Let him go!" Eliot growled.

"Didn't realise you two were a tag team, I woulda brought Sammy then." The man choked out.

"I'm tryin' to help you man!" Hardison sputtered, squeezing tighter, revelling in the gasps of the other man. "Puttin' myself in harm's way. You see if I ever try to help you again man."

"Hardison!" Eliot said again, stalking forwards and grabbing his arm that was wrapped around Winchester's throat. "Christ, let him go man. He's a friend."

"What?" Hardison yelled, loosening his death grip. "Then why the hell are ya'll beating on each other likes there's no tomorrow?"

"Dude," the guy said, rubbing his throat and eying him like he was a lunatic. "It's how we say hello."

"And you call me crazy Sparky," Parker said, still eyeing the taller man with distrust as he motioned for the bartender.

"Can I get a whiskey?" He said, before turning back to Eliot and saying with a grin, "Aren't you going to introduce me, _Sparkles_."

_Christ_, Eliot thought, _he hasn't changed a bit_. "Hardison, Parker, this is my good friend Dean Winchester."

* * *

**Read and review please! Tell me what you think, as in, should I carry this on?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So here's another update. I decided when I began writing this story, not only to place it earlier in the Supernatural timeline, but also to not tackle the Hardison looking like the guy who killed Sam, sorry if you wanted that it just wasn't something that I wanted to tackle. Anywho, hope you like it and tell me what you think!**

** Oh, and thankyou to all those wonderful people who reviewed! Kisses!**

**

* * *

Chapter 2.**

"What the hell are you doing in Boston?" Eliot finally asked, settling down into one of the booths. He'd decided to wait until the bar was empty, closing up McRory's for the owner before really getting into it with Dean. Sometimes being on good terms with the owner was freakin' useful. "You should have called."

Dean sighed, seeming far more world weary than the 20 year old kid he'd been the last time they met. He thudded into the chair opposite Eliot, rubbing a hand across his face. "Gotta job." He said shortly. "You know the drill."

He glanced at Hardison and Parker, and Eliot knew he was holding back on their account.

"Need any help?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Wait! So you're allowed to do side jobs on down time but I'm not?" Parker squawked indignantly. "How's that for double standards." She thumped Eliot on the arm, pouting her lips. When Eliot winced and rubbed his arm Dean threw his head back and laughed.

"Yeah, Sparklers, double standards much?" Dean made a tutting noise and shook his head. "I side with the pretty lady, dude."

"Another vote for bank robbing! Yes!" Parker crowed, punching a fist into the air. "Three one Sparky, three one!"

"Parker, we are not robbing a bank!" Eliot thundered again and Dean snorted.

"I don't know, I could use the extra money, hustling doesn't pay all that well anymore."

"Yeah, well if you would just let me help Dean–"

"Don't start up with that again." Dean cut him off. He waved his hand as if illustrating his annoyance. "We go through this every time. I don't want your **goddamn** money, that's not why I'm here, Christ."

"Okay, chill." Eliot said, holding his hands up.

"Man," Hardison chuckled, "You two are...how long have you known each other?"

Dean looked at Eliot, eyebrow raised, "We met about, six, seven years ago, right?"

"Seven." Eliot agreed. "Someplace in Ohio."

"Let me tell you, he wasn't such a looker back then." Dean said, nudging Parker.

"Shut up," Eliot growled.

"You're just the same, though. Just as hard headed, just as-"

"I seem to recall that my hard-headedness got you out of a few jams back in the day."

"Oh yeah, like when?" Dean narrowed his eyes, eyebrows pulled down as he leant across the table to prod Eliot's shoulder. "Come on, when?"

"Let's see," Eliot began, pretending to think for a moment before counting said occasions off on his fingers. "There was Colorado, Utah, Vancouver, Mexico, Wyoming—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold up, that time in Mexico does not count. I was fucking roofied man, by that damn hooker!" Dean yelled, slamming a fist down on the table.

Eliot smirked taking a swig of beer before replying, "It's not my fault you're an easy target!"

"Fine, then what about all those times I saved your ass from getting turned into chowder?"

"You." Parker said bluntly. "Saved Eliot."

"Please man, I've seen this guy take down five or six guys in like 20 seconds." Hardison said, thumping Eliot on the shoulder.

"Oh really." Dean laughed, pointing at Hardison. "Believe me there has been many a time when your precious retrieval specialist has needed to be retrieved himself!" He said grinning like a madman and ho boy did Eliot not like that look. Things never ended well when Dean Winchester got _that _look.

_Shit, _Eliot thought._ He's gonna bring up that other time in Mexico. _

Dean's eyes were bright, lips pulled up into one of those infectious smiles that startled even the most sourest of people into smiling back. In fact Eliot could feel his own lips tugging up out of his patented scowl. _Fuck._

"Yeah, like when man? Don't blame me for not believin' ya, it's just-"

"Hardison, my man, I will tell you anything you want to know." Dean grinned, looking from Eliot to Hardison and said, "Has he told you about that _other _time in Mexico—"

"Dean." Eliot cut him off.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist." He sighed and looked at Parker and Hardison's dejected faces, "All I'll say is it involved a piano, poncho and a very, very fake moustache."

"Dean." Eliot said again he could feel his image of not to be messed with, hard hitter going down the drain with each word, "Why don't we get back on track, huh? You need any help on this job?"

"Nah, man. I got Sammy to help me." Dean replied, blasé. He took a swig of his beer, avoiding Eliot's gaze.

Eliot narrowed his eyes, looking at Dean a little closer, the tight line of his lips, the stiff shoulders and that shuttered look in his eyes at the mention of his brother. Something had happened.

"I thought Sam was at Stanford?"

"Your bro' goes to Stanford, shit man, that's top notch. What's his major?" Hardison lent across the table, probably, Eliot thought at the possibility of meeting another of geek.

"He was doing pre-law when he left. But he's decided that he wants to be a part of the family business now," Dean said meaningfully. "He's been back for little under two years now."

_What? _Eliot thought, eyes narrowed. _What in the hell made the kid finally come around? _

"So what do you and your brother do?" She drummed her fingers against the table. "Are you a family of thieves?" She asked excitedly, clapping her hands at the mere thought.

Dean looked at Eliot, as if to say, they're your people what do you want me to tell them? Eliot sighed.

"Dean is..." he trailed off, looking for the words, "Dean's a specialist." He said finally, mouth twisting with amusement.

"Like you?" Parker's head swivelled around to focus on Eliot and he shrugged.

"Kind of." He muttered looking at Dean for help, frowning when he seemed more inclined to let Eliot suffer.

"I'm more into...protective services," he said finally with a wry smile. "I help people stay safe."

"You're not one of those health and safety people are you?" Hardison asked groaning, head in hands, "'Cos, sorry man but they suck. Bane of my freakin' existence. Can't do anything nowadays cos' of those suckers."

"No way," Dean said laughing. "That reminds me though, Eliot have you put up all those...safety measures in your safe house yet?"

"Most of 'em." Eliot responded gruffly. He felt the weight of Dean's stare and shrugged, "If you're that worried, you come and sort them out for me." He shifted uncomfortably as Dean narrowed his eyes and Hardison and Parker exchanged a confused look.

"So what do you actually do?" Parker asked again using the question as a guise for something more a little more dishonest. Eliot watched as she leant towards Dean, hand subtly reaching into his jacket pocket and hid his smile behind his drink.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I tried to explain, so let's just leave it at that." He stopped, smiled amusedly and continued saying, "And I would very much appreciate if I could have my car keys and knife back please."

"No fair," She muttered after a moment of silence, dropping said items onto the table.

"Dude." Hardison said, somewhat stunned. "Awesome man. You know how many times she's lifted my wallet and I didn't realise until I'm about to pay for stuff. How the hell did you know?"

Dean grinned at Hardison, "When you've been picking pockets since you were seven years old to keep your little brother fed, you kinda learn to read people, their intentions. Plus I know all the tricks of the trade."

Eliot's face darkened a little at the mention of Dean's less than normal upbringing.

Dean didn't talk about it very often, and when he did Eliot always felt angry at John. The stories that Dean bragged about to him, the occasions he had been taken on hunts with his father and had killed some nameless, faceless monster at such a young age left Eliot feeling sick to his stomach. No kid should have to deal with that.

Eliot was startled out of his brooding with Dean clicking his fingers in front of his face.

"Dude," He said somewhat fondly, "Where'd you go?"

Eliot grinned self-consciously, "Nowhere man." He cleared his throat, not meeting Dean's narrowed eyes and said, "So how's your Dad? Haven't spoken to him in years."

Dean froze, eyes flicking down to his beer bottle before saying: "Dead" flatly. Emotionlessly.

_Shit. When the hell—_

"Dean, Christ, when the hell did that happen?" Eliot leaned forwards and gripped Dean's forearm, squeezing a little. It didn't escape him that Dean wouldn't look him in the eye, nor did escape him that his mouth was turned down slightly in the corners, eyebrows furrowed a little. _Recent then._

"Last year."

"Fuck," Eliot muttered. As much as he hated John Winchester, he hadn't wanted the guy dead.

"Condolences." Hardison said, face twisted with sympathy.

Even Parker seemed to notice the jovial atmosphere had evaporated and Eliot watched as she touched Dean's shoulder softly, pressing a peanut into his hand. Evidently her gift had the desired effect as Dean laughed slightly and Parker grinned back.

"Thanks," he said, popping the peanut into his mouth, nudging her with his shoulder.

"What happened?" Eliot asked quietly, not wanting to ask but knowing that he had to.

Dean sighed, "We were in a car crash, me, Sammy and Dad." He stopped, as if searching for the words. "I don't know all that happened, I was already hurt before the crash, so when the truck hit the impala I got whacked about even more."

"Shit," Hardison breathed.

"Yeah, I know, hurt like a mother. I passed out and next thing I know it's days later. Sammy said I'd been in a coma and the doctors said that I wasn't gonna wake up." He stopped again, breathing out deeply before continuing, "Dad did something though and I woke up. And then Sam found him on the floor. He was already gone."

"I'm sorry." Eliot said.

"It's...it's not what I'm here to talk about, so can we just not?" Dean said bluntly.

"Yeah, sure man." Eliot replied.

"Where's the bathroom in this place?"

"That way," Parker said, pointing to the back room, "Go through the doors and turn right."

"Thanks," Dean said before sliding out of the booth, "I'll be back in a minute."

Eliot watched his retreating back for a moment before turning back to his teammates. "What?" He said unable to stand the staring for a moment longer.

"I like him." Parker said.

"Yeah, why haven't you mentioned him before man?"

"Just never came up before." Eliot replied, shrugging. "What? It's not like I talk about anything from my past anyway so—"

"He's hot." Parker spoke again, eyes glued to the doorway that Dean had just disappeared into.

Eliot and Hardison's heads swivelled towards her.

"What?" Hardison shrieked.

"He's hot, I like his ass." She said calmly.

"Parker don't even think about it!" Eliot said sternly while Hardison spluttered.

"Don't even think about what?" Dean said chuckling at the way Hardison nearly leapt out of his seat. "You know what, never mind. Just got a call from Sam, gotta go." He shrugged apologetically at Eliot who was scowling, "I'll come back when we've finished the job. Keep your pants on Sparklers it'll probably only take a few days. You can introduce me to the rest of your team."

"Yeah, that's gonna be a bundle of laughs." Eliot groaned, "Are you sure you don't want some extra help?"

"I'm sure man," He said smiling. "Parker, Hardison good to meet you."

"Likewise man," Hardison said, nodding.

"See you." He said, giving a little wave at the door before disappearing.

Eliot sighed as the door banged closed, taking a deep drink before turning back to his teammates. "Parker do not follow him, Hardison do not do a background check on him." They blinked at him in perfect unison, faces blank in an attempt to appear innocent. "Seriously guys," he said, "It'll do way more harm than good. Just believe me when I say he's one of the good guys, even though the FBI don't think so."

"Shit man, now you've really spiked my curiosity." Hardison groaned, thumping his head down onto the table.

"Yeah, you telling me not to follow someone is like me asking you not to hit people." Parker whined. "And—"

"I am so **not **having this argument again."

* * *

**A/N: Please, tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Oh my goodness, is this an update? WTH? I know, it's taken me a bit longer than last time but I did have to do real work. Sorry. Hope you like this one, unbetaed so please alert me if there are any gratuitous mistakes! :D

Oh, and reviews please!

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**Chapter 3.**

* * *

Dean came back to the bar just as it was closing.

Nate was poised, hand raised to close the door and lock it when a hand flailed into his line of sight. It gripped the door jam, and as Nate watched, blood rolled down the fingers onto the wood. His stomach sank.

"Whoa," He muttered, opening the door wider to peer out into the night, "Hey, buddy are you alright?"

It was a inane question really when Nate thought about it, rather superfluous when looking into the kid's face; there was a thin but long cut on the kid's forehead, leading from somewhere amongst the masses of spiky, dirty blonde hair, down to the top of his left ear and it was bleeding sluggishly. His face was pale and wan but his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide only a thin ring of lime surrounding them.

Pain induced delirium.

"Hey, hey buddy," Nate said, gripping a shoulder. The guy hissed, flinching back from the touch and Nate let him go like he'd been electrocuted. "You need to get to a hospital, I'll call an ambulance."

"No," his voice was forceful, adamant. "No hospitals." He took a shuddering breath and Nate noticed his teeth were pink from his own blood, "Need El,"

"No, no, buddy. Kid, concentrate, you need a hospital. Come in, I'm going to call for some help." Nate turned, mouth open, ready to call Sophie when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The grip was tight, almost too tight and he winced.

"_No hospitals_." The guy growled again and it was the tone of voice, the deadly serious look in his eyes that reminded him of Eliot.

"Okay, okay. Calm down, I was just going to call for my friends, they're upstairs-"

"Nate!" Parker yelled from the back of the bar and Nate sighed in relief.

"Parker I-"

"Dean! Dean what happened?" Her voice was high and wavering and Nate raised his eyebrows.

"Parker you know this guy?" Nate asked.

"Dean, oh no, Dean what happened?" She said again, ignoring Nate's questions. She took hold of Dean's hand, and motioned for Nate to close the door and grab his duffle bag.

"Hey Parker," Dean sighed. "Got into a little bit o' bother on that last job."

"Eliot's not here Dean, but I'll get Hardison to call him. Eliot will know what to do, just come on, upstairs."

"Darlin' I don't think I could take walkin' up a flight of stairs right now," His laugh was short and self-deprecating.

"You can take the lift," Nate said, pointing towards the back. "Come on, you look like you could use some help.""Nah, man. I'm fine."

"But you just said-" Parker broke in, face tilted up to look at Dean worriedly.

"Darlin'," Dean said, "I'm gonna be fine, just need Eliot to patch me up a bit, you know, with my "phobia" of hospitals and all that," He grinned, although to Nate it looked more a like a grimace.

"Come on Parker, let's just get him upstairs, then we'll call Eliot."

Dean moved surprisingly briskly for someone who looked so beat up. Nate watched him warily, not sure what to make of this kid who spoke of Eliot like they were brothers, who comforted Parker like they were friends.

The lift door pinged, and the trio shuffled inside, Dean exhaling with relief as he slumped against the wall.

"Sorry," He muttered, noting the blood dripping down his arm onto the floor, "I'll clean it later."

"Don't worry about it." Nate replied as the door of the lift slid open again. They had barely made it out of the lift when Parker started yelling again.

"Hardison! Hardison we need help out here!" She called and Dean groaned, complaining:

"Keep it down blondie, making my head hurt even more over here."

"Sorry," She muttered unconvincingly.

The door to Nate's apartment banged open and Hardison and Sophie leapt out into the corridor. The combined gasp of Sophie and yell of Hardison almost made Nate smile, but the slight of the bloodied kid next to him pulled his lips down again.

"Dean, man what the hell happened?"

"Stop makin' a fuss, it's not that bad. I'm just looking for Eliot."

"Stop makin' a- not that ba- Dean, man you're bleeding like a **stuck pig**."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, can I sit down somewhere please, I'm talking to three of you at the moment, but I think that's the blood loss."

"Christ," Sophie murmured, "Hardison get out of the way, go call Eliot. Hey." She said softly, "Come in and sit down. I'm Sophie." "A Brit? Hm. I'm Dean. If I wasn't so beat up I'd probably make a pass at you right now," Dean smiled, a little pained and Nate bristled.

"Sweetie, if you weren't so beat up, I'd probably make a pass at you too," She grinned back, jokingly and Nate's hackles went up even more as she disappeared back inside his apartment.

"Come on, come on." He barked, "Get him inside, already."

Dean looked at him then, eyes narrowed before he huffed a laugh out. "Oh, I get it. Sorry man." He said.

"What?" Nate replied, face flushing.

"Don't worry," Dean murmured so low only Nate could hear, "I won't steal your girl."

"Come on, Spiky," Parker said softly, tugging on his arm, leading him into the apartment.

"Alright," Dean huffed, shuffling forwards. "Sorry to impose on you and what not."

"Shut up, man," Hardison said from his computer. "Eliot's on his way. Sounds pissed,"

Dean laughed rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Eliot always sounds pissed."

"That's true," Hardison grinned easily. "So you gonna explain what happened?"

"I think I'll spare you the gory details. I'm more concerned with getting some stitches from my favourite long haired-butch-country 'n' western loving-nursemaid."

Sophie laughed, sorting through the first-aid kit a little hopelessly. "I don't know what I'm looking for," She said a little apologetically.

"S'alright. Some gauze, anything for stitches in there?"

"I don't know, I don't know what to look for, Eliot's always the one who patches us up."

"Never mind, I'll just wait for butch to get back then. In the mean time, anyone got any whiskey?"

Nate stiffened when everyone's gazes fell on him. Yeah the resident alcoholic was sure to have some booze. Ha. But Dean grinned self-consciously, gripping his hurt shoulder, missing the pointed looks at Nate.

"I know, I know stupid question, you living above a bar and all." Dean said wearily.

"I'll go find something." Nate muttered, dropping Dean's duffle bag with a clatter. Nate backed away into the hall, happy to get away from the pointed glances, but really Nate was just happy to be away from that kid.

This kid. This_ 'Dean'_ spoke about Eliot like they were friends, old friends. The easy familiarity that he spoke about Eliot with made Nate realise how little he actually knew about the gruff Hitter. Eliot didn't talk about his past, period. Sure Nate realised that this was probably because Eliot **couldn't **talk about some of it, but to know next to nothing about a person was unsettling. Which brought him back to Dean. To say Nate was unsettled by his appearance was an understatement. After-all if he was such a good friend of Eliot's, why had he never been mentioned? Why had he never visited before? Or picked up the phone and called? Why-this was getting ridiculous. He knew how to fight at least, knew how to take care of himself. So maybe he was like Eliot.

Nate was behind the bar when Eliot slammed in, hair dishevelled, eyes wild. "Where is he?" He growled, and Nate had never heard Eliot sound like that before.

"Upstairs, Eliot-" But Eliot was already gone, sprinting up the staircase before Nate could get the question out.

It was interesting. His voice had been a combination of anger, fury and worry. Fear that this guy, this kid - because that's all he was, a kid - was hurt. He shook his head once, dispelling the image and reached under the bar for the nearest bottle of whiskey. 

* * *

Eliot had to stop himself from slamming his phone against a wall.

Dean.

Hurt.

At the bar.

Shit. _**Shit**_. He had to get there now.

Luckily, Eliot was only around the corner and within minutes he was slamming into the bar, shouting "Where is he?" His voice was cold and hard and full of fear. Nate had looked shocked.

"Upstairs, Eliot-" He began, but he was already off and sprinting up the staircase leading to Nate's apartment, before slamming into yet another room and scaring the shit out of his friends.

Hardison, Parker and Sophie shot out of their chairs, faces pale at his abrupt arrival, only Dean, who was used to his dramatic entrances stayed seated and unnerved.

"What the hell happened?" He growled at the seated man, all the while cataloguing his injuries; cut on his face, possible dislocated shoulder, possible stab wound. "Dammit Dean!"

Dean shifted at his question, twisting his lips as he tried to find a way to tell Eliot without telling his team. "Hmm." He said, thinking.

"Well?" He growled. Sophie flinched at his tone in the corner of his vision.

Dean tutted, "Remember that other time in Mexico?"

Hardison snorted quietly from the corner of the room, saying to Parker, "How many times have they been to Mexico?"

But all Eliot could think was: Mexico.** Revenants**. Shit.

"Shit. Shit Dean! They dead?"

"Yeah, took a while though. Nasty bastards," He groaned remembering - the smell probably - "Speaking of, you think you could," He motioned towards the first-aid kit and Eliot nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" Sophie asked, face pale at the mention of dead bodies.

"Hospitals and I don't get on," Dean said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Mainly cos they'll call the police if they realise who you are." Eliot said, shucking off his coat and dropping it on the sofa next to Dean. He grabbed the first-aid kit, pulling out some gauze and antiseptic before kneeling in front of the seated man.

"What do you mean?" Hardison asked, sitting up.

"_Hardison_. We talked about this. No background checks."

"Ah let him if he wants," Dean said wincing as Eliot dabbed the cut on his face with antiseptic, "Dude, careful. It's not true what they say 'bout me, just so you know."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Eliot replied, "Apart from the whole grave desecration, breaking and entering, credit card fraud-"

"They get the idea man," Dean said, huffing.

"_Grave desecration_?" Sophie said, somewhat horrified, hands fluttering about her throat.

"Breaking and entering!" Parker crowed happily, slapping her hands on her thighs with delight.

"Credit card fraud?" Hardison coughed with surprise. He slammed his orange soda down on the desk, spluttering when it toppled over. "Credit-fraud-what?"

"Yeah," Dean looked sheepish, "Would you believe me if I said it's all a big part of my job?"

"It would be good to mention that said job involves helping people." Eliot said, rolling his eyes, "He's not a Satanist." He assured Sophie, threading the needle. "Well, not all the time."

"You are though," Dean responded with a grimace, "_Christ _that hurt, watch where you stick that thing!"

"If you would stop moving so much I wouldn't have to stab you in the eye with a needle then would I?"

"Shuddup." Dean grumbled, closing his eyes wearily. "You might have to stitch up a-" He stopped suddenly, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "Do you think we can do this somewhere a bit more private?" He asked, quietly.

"No." Eliot growled, fumbling with the needle before tying the stitches on his head off. "Soph, gimme a bandage would you?"

"Sure," She said, rummaging through Eliot's first-aid kit. "So how do you two know each other?" She asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

"Yeah, I'd like to know too." Nate said from the doorway.

"Christ dude" Dean said, "Scare the shit outta me why don't you."

"Sorry," Nate said unconvincingly.

"That whiskey for me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Nate answered shortly passing it to him, and Eliot looked up from bandaging Dean's head. Dean took the chance to take a long draught from the bottle, hissing as it burned all the way down.  
Eliot watched as Nate frowned at Dean. Eliot knew that look. It was the one Nate gave all those criminals and low-lives, the baddies, the fucking maniacs that they dealt with, the one that said _you're a piece of **shit**_.

"_**What**_?" Eliot snarled and Nate looked taken aback.

"N-nothing." Nate replied, frowning.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, nudging Eliot's shoulder, "Chill butch."

Eliot snorted, _butch_. He hadn't heard that one in years. He nodded, turned from Nate and looked at Dean appraisingly. "Your shoulder's dislocated." He said quietly.

"No shit," Dean responded dryly. "I thought it was supposed to be like that."

"It's your right one too, shit how many times have you dislocated this?"

"Now?" Dean said, grimacing, "Fourth time, this one's gonna hurt like a mother I can tell."

"How'd it happen?" Parker asked brightly sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Dean.

"Well I went one way and my shoulder went another," Dean joked.

"No really," Parker insisted.

Dean sighed, "I nearly fell off some scaffolding. S'my own fault really."

"Dean," Eliot growled.

"I know, I know."

"Where was Sam in all this? You told me Sam was with you and that was why you didn't need any help." Eliot said. When he got no answer he growled, "Dean."

"Alright, Sammy's not here. He's back at Bobby's doing research for another gig. I told him I could handle it and I was right. I got the bad guys didn't I."

"Yeah and nearly got yourself killed at the same time. Dean, I was being serious when I said I would help."

"You've got a good thing going here. I didn't want to drag you back into my life, my job." Dean said shaking his head.

"Dean," Eliot said, pulling back to glare at him. "Are you a fucking idiot? You don't take a job like that alone, you'll get yourself fucking killed! You should have had back-up. You're Dad would have tanned your hide if-" And Eliot knew, he knew he'd gone too far with the mention of John. And he was right. Dean's face darkened, the wry grin dropped off his face and was replaced with a frown and a snarl.

"You got out for a reason, man." Dean shoved Eliot, and he went sprawling. The carpet burned Eliot's elbows and he stared at Dean in shock.

Parker shifted back from Dean, her mouth turned down in the corners and Sophie put a hand on her shoulder, tugging her backwards as they watched Eliot lever himself upright again.

"Hey," Nate said, trying to placate, trying to reassert some semblance of control.

"You think I wanted you to go through that again?" Dean yelled. He stood up, swaying slightly before continuing, "No way in _hell._ I wasn't going to change your mind back then and I'm not going to try now. **_Fuck you_** Eliot. Wyoming was some bad shit, if I hadn't found you in time you'd still be fucking-"

"Dean, stop." Eliot said forcefully. "You did find me, it's alright"

"No, it's not alright. Do you know what it was like for me that _week_? I had no idea where you where. I had no fucking clue what it was doing to you, and it was all **my** fault!"

"Dean, I was the one who messed up that night, not you!"

"You were gone a week, you were like that for a whole fucking week!"

"I wasn't awake the whole time." He murmured softly. "And you forget what happened when you found me! So if anybody should be apologising-"

"That wasn't you and you know it! You know what? Screw this. Screw you Eliot, I shouldn't have come back here. I've patched myself up for the past 20 years alone, I can still do it now." Dean made to get up, but it was the wince, the pained furrow of his brows, the hiss of breath that he couldn't quite contain that made Eliot step forwards again. He pressed a hand down onto Dean's uninjured shoulder, just enough pressure to stop him from moving and injuring himself further.

"Sit. Down." He said lowly.

Dean flinched, looked up at him from under his eyebrows and sighed, "Eliot." It was almost a plea, most definitely a whine.

"Just sit here and let me patch you up." He said. "When I'm done, you can throw things and punch me and storm out and slam all the doors you want as you fucking go. All that dramatic girly shit you like. Whatever you want man, hell you can fucking punch Hardison if you want,"

"_Hey_!" Hardison said, disgruntled.

Dean snorted, shaking his head once. "I'll hold you to that," He said grinning as Hardison said "Hey!" again. "Think you can fix my shoulder now, it hurts like a mother,"

"Yeah, yeah, calm down. Parker, can you get some ice, or something and wrap it in a towel?"

"Aye, aye Cap'n." She sing-songed, propelling herself towards the kitchen.

"Hey," Sophie said, taking Dean by the arm again leading him towards the table, "Come on, you'll need to brace yourself against something."

"Hands off Sophie, there'll be time enough for you to manhandle him later," Eliot grumbled, watching from the corner of his eyes as Nate's face darkened and he stormed after Parker into the kitchen.

"You keep teasin' him, he's gonna come after me with a kitchen knife. You're supposed to be patching me up, not getting me more injured!" Dean said, peering over his shoulder as he was led away by Sophie.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever man. Get your leather jacket off, Hardison can you help?" Eliot called.

"Uh huh, sure." The hacker stood up and in two strides was next to Dean and Sophie, helping him to slide the jacket off his injured arm.

"Careful with that," He murmured to Hardison, who nodded before draping it over one of the chairs. With the jacket gone, Eliot could catalogue more injuries. Blood seeping through the lower section of his back seemed to indicate what he really, really hoped wasn't a bite.

"Is that a-" Eliot trailed off, motioning to the blood on his shirt.

"Yeah," Dean said grimly, "But luckily I got all the stuff I need in my duffle."

What could Eliot say to that? _Thank God you've got some holy water on hand cos I'm fresh out of it?_ He shook his head at Dean's grin before saying to Sophie: "Can you get some hot water? Put it in a big bowl, and get some towels?"

"Sure," She murmured, letting go of Dean's forearm and traipsing into the kitchen.

"Thanks man," Dean said quietly.

"Didn't think you'd want an audience for this," Eliot replied looking at Hardison pointedly.

"I can go if you want," Hardison said motioning over his shoulder with a thumb, forehead furrowed with worry.

"Nah, man. It's just the chicks, you know how they get." Dean replied, rolling his eyes.

"Brace yourself, it's gonna hurt." Eliot said. "On three?"

"They always say that and then go on two." Dean grumbled. "Alright," He sighed again, a world-weary sigh that made Eliot's lips turn up at the corners. "Go on, do your worst." He said.

Eliot reached forwards then, placing his hands on either side of Dean's injured shoulder, "Okay? One." He said, and pushed.

With a sickening crack the shoulder slide back into place and Dean swore loudly. He slammed a fist down on the table, hissing out, "Fuck, mother fuck, mother_** fucking**_ shit. Christ that hurt."

"Yeah, no shit from your reaction I thought it tickled."

"Ha ha." Dean said. "Fucking sadistic bastard."

"What's with the yelling?" Parker asked, flouncing in with peas wrapped in a kitchen towel, "Here's your peas," She grinned, chucking them at Eliot's face.

"The yelling was me being tortured by your so called friend."

"Eliot!" Parker scolded.

"What?" He passed the peas to Dean who promptly slapped them on his shoulder blade, hissing with relief as the cold seeped into his aching muscles. "I think I need to take a look at your back,"

"I know," Dean said, eyes closed.

"You wanna stretch out on the table?"

"Not really. But I'm gonna end up doing it anyway, aren't I?"

"Yep." Eliot smiled. "Soph, where's the hot water?"

"Here, here," She said, carrying the bowl with a pair of oven gloves on.

"Parker can you get my duffle?" Dean asked, levering himself up onto the table.

"Sure!"

"No stealing!" Dean called groggily, pointing a finger at her.

"No fun," She said, dragging the bag behind her.

"Thank you kindly," Dean said, dropping it onto the table and unzipping it one handed.

"Dude," Hardison said, "That is a lot of guns and knives."

"Yeah, tools of the trade and all that." He said rummaging through its contents.

"Eliot doesn't like guns," Parker said solemnly. She was cross-legged again, sitting on table. It was the innocent tone that made Dean stop and look up at her through his eyelashes.

"Gimme," Dean said after a moments contemplation. Eliot watched as her eyes narrowed to slits and she pouted.

"No fun," She said, dropping a knife into his open hand.

"Man, Dean, you gotta tell me how you do that!" Hardison sighed.

"Years of practise my friend, years of practise." Dean said, still rummaging through his duffle.

Nate had reappeared, carrying a bundle of towels and dropped them onto the table next to the bowl of hot water. "What are you looking for?" He asked, peering into the bag warily. His eyebrows shot towards his hairline when he realised what he was looking at.

"What the hell is this?" He hissed.

"What?" Dean said, without looking up.

"Eliot, what the hell-who the hell is this guy?"

"Dude," Dean said glancing up at Nate, "Chill out."

"Chill out?" Nate spluttered. "You have knives and guns and god knows what else in that bag. Eliot I want to know right now who this guy is."

"You could just ask me." Dean said, offended.

Eliot watched as Nate stepped closer to Dean, poking him in the shoulder with a finger. Dean swayed backwards, gripping the table for support as the tender muscle around his shoulder throbbed and complained its treatment.

"Nate," Sophie said, trying to break in at the sight of Dean's pale face.

"Eliot-" He began again, expression dark and furious.

"Dean Winchester at your service." Dean said groaned. "But can we do this after I've stopped bleeding?" He lanced Nate with a glare darker than one of Eliot's own, gripping his injured shoulder again and the hitter grinned, watching as Nate backed away.

"Do you mind," Dean spoke low so only to Eliot. "Can we go somewhere a bit more private?" Eliot nodded once and picked up his duffle, motioning to one of the back rooms.

"I need to patch him up," Eliot said bluntly to the room, "_Don't_ bother us."

Hardison nodded, turning to go back to his computer while Sophie had to pull Nate away from the table to go and sit on the couch on the other side of the room. Parker however, pouted and refused to budge. Eliot was about to open his mouth and bark out a threat when Dean said quietly "Please Parker?"

Parker startled at his tone, as if realising that Dean was really hurt, as if she just clicked that for all his bravado and smiles Dean was actually pretty banged up. Her lips turned down in the corners and her shoulders hunched. "Sorry," She muttered.

Dean groaned, throwing his head back. "Dude I hate it when chicks do that," He grumbled, grabbing onto Eliot's offered arm.

"Tell me about it." Eliot grumbled back and led him into the back room. 

* * *

A/N :O *Runs for the hills*


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, hello and happy new year! I figured this had been sitting on my computer for far too long so here's my new years gift to everyone who has been following this story (thanks btw). Sorry it's taken so goddamn long, real life took a hold of me in the form of dissertation deadlines and stupid assignments. But alas, I couldn't help myself. Hope you like the next instalment, please tell me what you make of it...I think I got a bit too sappy in the middle. I apologise. *bows head in shame*.**

* * *

**Chapter 4.**

Eliot shut the door quietly, blocking out the chatter of his team mates in the main room.

He faced the wood for a moment, taking a breath, taking just a moment to recollect his thoughts. The fear that had accompanied Hardison's call - Dean. Hurt. At the Bar - was dwindling, and Eliot felt the exhaustion creeping in.

"You gonna stand there all day butch, or are you gonna make sure I don't get Revenant rabies from this bite? If I start foaming at the mouth and try to gnaw on your face don't blame me," He said from across the room.

Eliot turned, face schooled into a scowl and said, "Shut up. I'm still angry at you."

"Yeah well," Dean replied with a similar frown, "I'm not too pleased to be looking at your ugly mug right now either,"

He stepped towards Dean, dragging the duffle behind him and thumped down onto a chair, motioning for Dean to do the same. There was a beat of silence and Eliot sighed, long and drawn out.

"Can we not do this again?" Dean asked suddenly, quietly, looking at his hands. "We have this same fight every time and man…I'm sick of it."

"You brought it up," Eliot said petulantly.

"Yeah well I'm a douche, get used to it." Dean said, with a wry grin. He was clutching his shoulder still, the peas pressed to the sore muscle and Eliot snapped into reality.

"You are a douche," He said, standing up, "But is your douchey self gonna let me take care of that bite now?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled, "But your gonna have to help me get outta this t-shirt,"

"You know I'm not really your nursemaid, I wont actually give you sponge baths."

"Dude," Dean said scandalised at the thought, "Maybe I should call one of the gals in here,"

"God no," Eliot groaned. He flung his head back at the mere thought. "Catastrophe is not an adequate word to describe the results of you doing that!"

"Sure, you just wanna see me naked."

"Dude, I don't think my eyes could handle it. There is not enough brain-bleach in the world that could make _that _sight okay," Eliot shuddered before grinning lopsidedly at Dean, "Come on then, let's do this."

Dean sighed and grumbled and moaned but Eliot managed to pull his shirt off without much discomfort, but with the flimsy material gone and Dean finally stretched out on the guest bed, Eliot clenched a fist at the sight of Dean's injuries. It was the bruising that he noticed first, big purpling smudges that circled Dean's relocated shoulder, so dark they almost looked like blood, black finger marks around his wrists and neck, over his kidneys, near his ribs. Eliot stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, and said quietly, "Got some wicked bruises Dean," to which Dean replied with a simple and somewhat unconcerned, "Meh." Eliot rolled his eyes, grabbing the bag of peas that Parker had wrapped in a towel and placed them on his shoulder, grinning when Dean hissed at the sudden coldness. Eliot continued cataloguing, eyes roving over Dean's back before focussing on what seemed like three scratches - a fact Eliot could not compute considering the fact Dean's t-shirt returned from the hunt unscathed, bar a few bloodstains - that ran down almost the length of his back. Two, Eliot found after some prodding (and grumbling from Dean) were shallow and superficial and so Eliot grabbed the carton of holy water and doused the cloth. When they did nothing, he nodded to himself and grabbed the antiseptic and bandages.

The third scratch however was much deeper. Dean hissed as Eliot's finger tips touched the inflamed, pink edges of the wound and muttered a low "Careful dude." Eliot nodded to himself, eyebrows drawn down and took stock of the wound; it was still weeping blood sluggishly so Eliot grabbed the holy water and doused it. This time it fizzled, the wound spitting and sizzling as steam rose in a white cloud into Eliot's face. Dean keened, low, planting his face down in the covers as if to muffle his pain.

"Sorry," Eliot mumbled, gripping Dean's good shoulder sympathetically, "Gotta do stitches too, you want something for the pain?"

"No, just…get on with it,"

"Dean, this is no time to-"

"Don't want it El," Dean murmured, "Makes my head fuzzy, gives me whacked out dreams,"

Sighing, Eliot picked up the water again, "Alright, how's your front? Got any damage I need to take a look at?" he asked softly.

"Nah, just a few bruises, nothing serious." Dean yawned, flopping his head down onto his crossed arms and shutting his eyes.

Eliot nodded to himself and doused the cut once more for good measure. When the fizz dissipated he grabbed the needle; it took three tries to thread the needle and then Eliot was moving with speed, hands falling into that familiar rhythm, wanting to get this done as quickly and easily as possible. It was the bite that Eliot was worried about, scratches were all well and good, and were rarely fatal, but bites were tricky. Regardless of Dean's joking, 'Revenant rabies' or something akin to that was a distinct possibility. It was rare to contract something from saliva but if some of its blood had gotten in there, well, Eliot didn't want to think about that. So Eliot was generous when dousing the bite. As soon as the holy water touched the wound, Dean _**yowled. **_Eliot startled, murmuring, "Sorry, sorry," before pouring more onto the bite, "I gotta get it clean Dean, sorry," Dean wailed again, and Eliot winced as the bite hissed and fizzled more, spitting bloody water at his face. When Dean's cry cut off abruptly, Eliot dropped the water, gripping Dean's shoulder and shaking a little.

"_Dean_?" he asked, fingers fumbling for a pulse. When he found it, strong and fast under his fingertips, Eliot couldn't help the sigh of relief. A passed out Dean, was not something Eliot liked to see, but maybe in this case it would make Eliot's job a lot easier and a lot less painful, for the both of them. It took three more douses of holy water before Eliot was able to stitch the bite, slather it with antiseptic and bandage it.

"Done," Eliot said to the quiet room.

He looked at Dean appraisingly, noting the goose-bumps rising on his arms and back and Eliot sighed, knowing that he was going to have to manoeuvre him under the covers. Shifting Dean's dead weight under any circumstances was no mean feat. Sure Eliot was strong and could take almost anything anyone threw at him, but Dean had bulked up since they'd last seen each other. His once lanky frame had filled out, muscles in places he didn't remember. _Taller too, _he mused pulling the covers up and over his shoulders, _still got those goddamn bowlegs though. _Eliot chuckled slightly, before grabbing the bloodied bandages and padding to the door.

Eliot closed the door with a soft snick, clenching his fist as he turned around to greet the worried faces of his team mates. Parker looked especially stricken, gaze fixed on his bloody hands and splattered face and Eliot grimaced, saying: "Don't go in there. Dean needs to rest, and I don't think he'd appreciate being woken up by strangers."

"Me and Hardison aren't strangers, though!" Parker sulked, making to step towards the door, needing to check that Dean was still alive and breathing inside.

Eliot held up a hand, wincing when he realised he was still holding the bloody bandages. With a sigh, he let his hand fall back to his side at the worried look on Parker's face and said quietly, "You know how I tell you not to wake me if I'm asleep, 'cos I'm not sure whether I'll see you as a threat and lash out?"

When Parker nodded once, he continued, "Dean's like that too. Worse even. You don't wanna startle him awake, you'd probably end up with a knife at your throat or a gun in your face instead of a fist to the head like with me." He said bluntly.

"Oh," Sophie said quietly, hand at her throat.

"But all his guns and knives are out here, so-"

"Believe me Parker he'd find a way, cos that's what Dean's like." He grumbled, "He's a fucking maniac," He mumbled quietly, fondly. When Nate's face darkened, Eliot glared at him. "It'd kill him if he hurt any of you, so I'm just asking, be careful when he's sleeping." When they agreed, he nodded once, face grime and said: "Thanks", before wearily striding into the kitchen.

Eliot dropped the bloody bandages into the bin, though his body yearned to set them alight, however Eliot didn't think that Nate would appreciate a makeshift bonfire in the middle of his kitchen. Eliot stepped up to the sink, washing the blood off his hands and face before stopping suddenly. Nate. What the hell was his problem anyway? He turned on his heel suddenly and marched back into the main room, hands pink and dripping.

"What the hell is your problem with Dean?" Eliot growled at Nate.

Nate looked a little dumbfounded for a moment, before his face transformed and that judgemental look was back. "I don't trust him." He said, folding his arms, though his eyes tracked the movement of bloody water trailing down Eliot's arm.

"You don't even know him!" Eliot said incredulous.

"No, but you do and that's what worries me!"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Eliot said calmly.

"He was talking about his job, your old life. He was talking about killing people Eliot! What about that is right?" Nate flung his arms open, stepping towards Eliot, who frowned.

"Ah," Eliot said quietly. There was a beat of silence and he scratched the back of his neck, and thinking for a moment. "It's not what you think." He said finally.

"Well please by all means explain it then," Nate said, tone biting.

"Nate," Sophie admonished. "Eliot, can't you just-"

"It's not my place to tell, Sophie," Eliot said, "It's Dean who has to decide whether he wants people to know or not. Most of the time no one believes him anyway, I didn't at first but…" He trailed off, remembering that first encounter with Dean. He grinned, "Dean is a convincing fucker when he wants to be, if nothing but persistent. Actually he's a brilliant grifter, you'd probably love him Sophie."

"Well I'd like to get to know him," She replied, "Any friend of yours and all that!"

"Sophie!" Nate said, head whipping around to stare at her.

"What?" She said haughtily, hands on hips, "He hasn't done anything dangerous and threatening to any of us. Parker and Hardison raved about him to me for days. And if _**Eliot**_ says he's a good man then I'll believe _him_ and not _you _seeing as you've only just met him 15 minutes ago."

Nate frowned and turned away, marching back into the kitchen. Probably looking for more whiskey. _Fucker. _Eliot thought.

"Thanks," Eliot grinned and nudged her with his elbow when Nate was out of earshot.

"You're most certainly welcome." Sophie replied with a grin of her own.

"Dean is a very good friend," Eliot continued, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs across from Parker. "We've known each other for, God, years."

"Why haven't you mentioned him before now?" Hardison said, swivelling in his chair to look at Eliot.

"I." Eliot said and stopped. He look at his hands, somewhat embarrassed, "I don't like to talk about my past. You can understand that can't you?"

"Yeah, man. Cool it." Hardison nodded, turning back to pick up his laptop. He froze and peered over his shoulder again, a little sheepishly, "I am still allowed to do this background check though?"

Eliot paused for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, whatever, Dean said that was okay. Just believe me when I say that while most of it is true, Dean is a good man and the cops are fucking idiots."

When Hardison left, Eliot slumped into the sofa, sighing with exhaustion. He was only vaguely aware of Sophie and Parker hovering nearby, but was content to let them hover for the moment.

"Is Dean-?" Sophie began and Eliot opened one eye noting how her lips twisted worriedly.

"I think he'll be okay, I got all the poison outta his wounds so-"

"Poison?" Parker looked at him through narrowed eyes, brows furrowed.

"Is that why he was, I mean…we heard-" Sophie trailed off, looking back at the closed of the guest room and Eliot sighed, of course they heard Dean, cleaning Revenant bites was never going to be a quiet job, hell cleaning anything with holy water was always trouble.

Eliot sighed, "Dean…he'll get better. He's had worse."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, you know," Sophie grumbled, chin resting in the palm of her hand. "I know I've only just met him, but-"

"Yeah, I know, Dean Winchester kinda has that affect on people." Eliot grinned lopsidedly. "You can't help but want to be around him," Sophie gave him a soft smile.

"So he steals things?" Parker said, abruptly changing the subject and leaning forwards excitedly.

"Yeah," Eliot said, opening his eyes again, "He sometimes steals things."

"He should help us out on our next case!" She said excitedly.

"He's like you, me, Sophie and Nate all rolled into one," Eliot grinned, rolling his eyes at the thought of Dean joining one of their jobs. "Nate would hate it,"

"Probably, but wouldn't that make it all the more fun?" Sophie asked mischievously.

"You're kind of sadistic, you know that?" Eliot retorted, with a quirked brow.

"It's something I pride myself on." She replied, twisting her lips into that grin that Eliot knew meant trouble.

"Maybe." Parker began, from behind her fingers, "Dean would like to jump off a roof with me later."

"Parker!" Sophie said incredulous, "Did you not see him? He looked like he was about to pass out there's no way-"

"Actually, he probably would you know." Eliot broke in, mouth stretched tight, "I mean, he growls and grumbles about flying but he's just crazy enough that he would jump off a roof with you." He stopped at the look on Parker's face and pointed a finger at her threateningly, "Don't get any ideas Parker. Dean…he's crazier than you. He'd go jumping off a roof while he's hurt like _that_," He pointed back at the guest room to illustrate his point, "And I know that you would never do anything like that, you would never let anyone do _that_, right Parker?"

"Right," She said quietly. "Why would-?" She broke off, tilting her head at Eliot inquiringly and scrunching up her nose.

"Dean," Eliot said quietly, "Dean had a very different upbringing to me. He was raised by his dad, ex-marine, trained in his line of work since he was four, so he's been doing this a hell of a lot longer than me."

"Four? Since he was four? He would have been just a baby-" Sophie said thudding down onto the sofa next to Parker.

"Yeah, I know. I try to remember what I was like when I was four and all I can remember is, well," He broke off, "milk and cookies, if I'm honest, and maybe horses."

"Shoes for me." Sophie said, a dreamy look on her face.

"Stealing teddy bears and jars of jam," Parker offered not looking up from plaiting her hair.

Eliot rolled his eyes, "In many ways Dean's much better than me, he could do this job, hell he's been doing my job his entire life. The things he's done, the people he's saved; Dean has always helped people, _**always**_. I on the other hand," He trailed off at Sophie's narrowed eyes, and he shrugged a little self-consciously, 'I used to be more…selfish."

"Eliot-" She began, but Eliot cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"No, it's true. I was a selfish man, took jobs for money, and reputation and just to prove to people that I was the best at what I did, and what I did was not good or moral or right. But Dean, he's the best man I know. You see Parker, Dean steals, but what he takes is to survive, he makes money hustling pool and doing credit card scams, but more often than not he and his brother live outta the Impala. He has no home, no safe house to go back to like us, no back up other than his brother and a shotgun and he doesn't care, he's just…carrying on the family business, saving people, doing his _job. _So the thought of doing anything for himself, even if that is asking for help when he's hurt, doesn't factor in. He's fiercely protective of his family, they come first _no matter what_, so he doesn't like to show weakness, doesn't like to show that he needs help. _That _is why Dean would jump off a roof while he's hurt like that,"

There was a beat of shocked silence. Sophie looked like she was about to cry and Parker looked stricken. Eliot rolled his eyes at the pair of them, huffing comically.

"Well," Sophie said finally, with a small smile, "I like him,"

"Me too, we should keep him." Parker said.

"We can't keep him Parker, he's not a pet," Eliot said incredulously.

"Fine then we'll steal him. I can keep him then can't I?" Her voice was triumphant.

"Your kleptomania is getting outta hand. Parker you are not going to _steal **Dean**_!"

* * *

"Hardison what can you tell me about this guy," Nate said matter-of-fact, peering over the hacker's shoulder.

Hardison gave him a long, level look before he nodded once to himself and turned back to the computer, "Dean Winchester, born January 24th 1979 to a John and Mary Winchester, both deceased; his father last year, his mother in…'83."

"He was four," Nate murmured to himself. "What can you tell me about the father-"

"Wait, wait. What the-" Hardison muttered, frowning at the computer screen. "Dean Winchester, born January 24th 1979, _died_-"

"Died?-"

"Died March 7th, 2006 in St. Louis, Missouri, shot apparently, fleeing an attempted murder. Huh."

"Huh? That's all you can say? Huh? If Dean Winchester is dead then who the hell is _this_ guy?" Nate growled.

"I don't…look man there's probably some reasonable explanation for this. We should just ask Eliot, maybe he knows." Hardison shrugged, eying Nate warily, "I don't think I'll look anymore. Doesn't feel right."

"Hardison," Nate began, severely.

"No man, sorry. Dean's my friend and I know he said I could do this background check, and I know that _you_ don't trust him, but you've only just met the guy and okay, granted he's banged up and he's got this duffle fulla crazy shit but…he's Eliot's _friend._" Hardison stopped and sighed, "When me and Parker first met Dean, him and Eliot, they talked like they were brothers or something. Felt a little jealous if I'm being perfectly honest,"

"What do you mean, like brothers?" Nate said, sitting down opposite Hardison.

"I mean," Hardison pulled away from the computer and leant towards Nate, "Nate, they greeted each other by getting in a fist fight, beating the shit outta each other and when I tried to stop Dean, Eliot was all like 'dude that's my bud get off!' and so I was all like 'what the hell? That's the last time I help your sorry ass' and Dean was like, 'dude it's how we say hello', like they'd done it before."

"What? Hardison, I have no idea what you're talking about, make sense. Why is this relevant?"

"Alright look, when I grabbed Dean, Eliot went crazy protective, like when we're on a job and one of the goons tries to punch your lights out or tries to cop a feel of Sophie or Parker."

"What's your point?" Nate said unmoved.

"To Eliot, that guy is **family**-" Hardison said vehemently, he thrust a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the spare room where Dean was sleeping, "-and I _know_ it's the same for Dean too. So you not **trusting **Dean, you talking down to him, all your name-calling and yelling and screaming at someone from Eliot's _**family**_, that's got to have hurt, both of them." _More importantly, _Hardison thought to himself, _it's gonna piss Eliot off to no end_.

There was a beat of silence. "Oh," Nate said finally.

"Yeah," Hardison said, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.

"Look" Nate said finally, rubbing a hand over his face wearily, "I just don't…I mean why…he's never mentioned-"

"When has Eliot ever mentioned anything of his past?" Hardison pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"I suppose," Nate agreed, rubbing his face again.

"And why the hell would he talk about his family or his childhood or whatever it is that you suddenly need to know about, if he knows that _you_ are gonna react like **this**?" There was another beat of silence, and it dragged long and painfully between them.

"I suppose I should apologise." Nate said, mouth turned down.

"I suppose you should," Hardison said, and turned away.

* * *

Dean turned over in bed, wincing when his shoulder pulled. "_Fuck_," he muttered, blinking blearily back into awareness. He stared at the ceiling, frowning, trying to remember where he was, what the hell he was doing here and why the hell he felt like he'd been hit by a truck - again. When nothing happened, no answers mysteriously arose in flashing technicolour, Dean figured he'd better find out for himself. He could feel the pull of stitches on his back, feel the heat of fever flushing his cheeks and yet the memory of how he acquired such wounds evaded him. So he sighed, world-weary, all woe-is-me and began to pull himself into a seated position. He winced as his ribs protested and his shoulder pulled again with the strain; he could practically hear his bones creaking but Dean figured he would rather know where the hell he was than get slaughtered in the night and be sent downstairs ahead of time simply because of a little pain.

He squinted into the darkness, taking stock of the room that he was in, searching for anything that seemed familiar, all the while searching for a viable weapon. When nothing suitable presented itself, Dean moved to get up, fingers dragging along the wall, catching on the patterns as he grappled with the wave of dizziness that accompanied the upwards motion. It was surprising, he thought however, how quiet one could be when they needed to, and Dean shuffled towards the door, barefooted and silent. He gripped the handle, twisting slowly to avoid detection and slipped out of the dim room.

It was open-plan wherever he was; Dean could see the kitchen, living area, dining area all from where he stood and it all suddenly came rushing back to him - the Revenants, the scaffolding, that chick with the British accent and nice ass.

"**_Mother_**fuck-" He stopped himself, slumping back against the door, all the fight leaving him at once. Jesus, he needed alcohol._ I cannot believe I dragged myself here. Christ this is the last thing I need._ Dean groaned inwardly and tried to remember why coming to see Eliot had been a good idea and then the bite on his back twinged and he rolled his eyes, _oh_.

"Dean?" It was Parker, and Dean peered into the gloom searching her out.

"Dude I can't see a thing, where are you?" He muttered, squinting his eyes.

"Down here," She said again, waving an arm from under the table.

"Parker what the hell are you doing under the table?"

"It's comfy down here," She said, smiling. "Come join me,"

"No way, I hurt too much to be lying on the floor, even if it is with a pretty lady like you," He grumbled, shuffling towards her prone form.

"Alrighty," She said and crawled out, "I'll just have to join you,"

"Hey now, shouldn't you be asleep? What time is it?" Dean asked, hand gripping the table for support.

"Shouldn't you both be asleep?" A deadpan voice asked, somewhere from Dean's left.

"Christ, calm down," it said when Dean practically shot into the air with fright.

"Jesus, Eliot, what the hell?" Dean asked, comically gasping and clutching at his heart. Dean smirked when Eliot rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," He said unconvincingly, "You should be resting."

"You know you're not really my nursemaid," Dean said with a wry smile, "You don't have to-"

"Go back to bed, you can argue with me in the morning." Dean opened his mouth to protest again but the look on Eliot's face made him stop. His mouth was pulled tight into a straight line, his brow was flat but his jaw betrayed the tension he was feeling.

"El-" He began but Eliot cut him off with a chopping motion of his hand. Dean jolted away worried that he was going to get a karate chop to the head and nearly fell over for his troubles. It was the tight grip of Eliot's hands that saved him from falling onto his ass. "Thanks," He said somewhat embarrassed.

"Save it," Eliot said, that severe tone back in his voice. "Parker, you wanna help me get him back to bed?"

"You betcha Sparky! Nurse Parker reporting for duty!" She saluted and then proceeded to push imaginary sleeves up her arms. Dean groaned, rolling his head back in dismay, this was going to be _so _fun.

"I'll take him back, can you get some water and the pain meds from the first aid kit?"

"Okey dokey,"

"Eliot," Dean whined when Parker flaunted off towards the kitchen.

"Save it." Eliot replied, face stern and unforgiving.

"You know I don't like pain meds, they make me all-"

"Yeah, I know, but I can see it in your face Dean. You hurt, you have a fever, just take the goddamn pills or I'll force 'em down your throat."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Eliot, studying his face, before nodding slowly, "Alright," He said finally, allowing himself to be pulled back into the guest room and deposited on the bed. Dean was just shimmying under the covers when Parker crept back into the room with a glass of water and some pills. She placed them on the bedside table and with a sidelong look at Eliot, whose face was a freaking picture Dean thought, shuffled back out of the room.

"Get some rest." Eliot said. "And take your meds."

"As you wish, my liege." Dean mocked, bowing his head, and spreading his arms. Eliot growled and Dean sniggered in response, "Calm yourself, Butch, I'll take the pills."

"Whatever."

"You're so easy to mess with, you know that?" Dean grinned, lips pulled into a wide smile, "Just as easy as Sammy. Man, the pair of you, crazy."

"Shuddup." Eliot said, but his tone was almost fond and Dean knew he'd won him over again.

"Nighty night, Nurse Sparky McSparkers."

"Fuck you." Eliot growled through gritted teeth and turned on his heel.

"Aw, I love you too, man." Dean called as Eliot left the room. "Bromance," He said the empty room. He shook his head and grinned, "Gotta love the bromance."

* * *

**A/N: Please tell me what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: OH MY GOD THERE ARE NO WORDS FOR HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN...sorry.**

**This chapter hasn't been betaed so any and all mistakes are mine...**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Dean left at 4:39 and didn't look back.

He had waited until he was sure everyone was asleep, waited until the apartment fell under that unnatural stillness before he rose, wincing, from the bed. He had known that coming here was a bad idea and more than anything he wanted to keep Eliot safe, protect him from the horrible truth that had taken over Dean's life.

At one point in the night Dean had been sure he would stay, spend some time with his old hunting buddy and get to know his new family. Spend time laughing and joking at each other's expense, spend time telling stories and working together once more.

He had been drifting to sleep, the pain and exhaustion finally bubbling up and over his body like a slow boiling kettle when it had happened.

It was quiet at first, so soft and muted that Dean had dismissed the sound as noise from the darkened street below. But the sound came once more. This time Dean could not mistake it for anything other than that which it was. It was a deep rumbling. A soft rasping. It was painfully slow in the way it built, rising, deepening until it crashed with a stinging kiss against Dean's skin.

The hellhound howled balefully, keening as if it was pained by the fact it could only survey its quarry and not savage it as the beast so dearly desired. Dean froze, muscles tightening, spine straightening as he realised that his demonic companion had once more returned to sit its harrowing vigil over him. But something felt different tonight, the air seemed cooler, the shadows darker as the hellhound stepped more carefully into the room. It appeared, as always from the darkest corner, a great hulking figure of a dog, a yawning black emptiness where it's body stood on the ratty carpet. Only tonight it's seemed discontented by its vigil. It needed to do more than stand and howl and snarl, tonight it hungered for more. Tonight it moved closer, the muscled body undulating as it lumbered to Dean's bed.

Dean watched as the beast put its forepaws on the bed, the great feet oily and steaming as if they were great burning coals. Dean watched as it slowly pushed itself onto the bed over him, felt the bed dip under the hulking weight as it inched closer. Anticipation sat sickly and heavily in his throat, making it burn and clench as the beast finally stood atop him, grinning down with impossibly wide jaws. A bloody nose touched the point between his eyes and Dean whimpered.

He would not look upon its face.

He would not look upon its face.

God please, he would not look upon its face.

Dean waited, eyes clenched shut, waited as the thing snarled, harsh and grating over him.

Dean waited, breathing in the beast's hot, rank breath. It smelt of death and decay and sorrow and tasted just as poisonous.

But still Dean waited, eyes clenched shut, waited and refused to look.

Something hot and wet dropped onto his face and Dean flinched, but finally, finally it receded. It left the room with a final snarl, brushing its oily, slick fur against Dean's bare thighs, a last, careful reminder that when it came to collect its prize, it would claim Dean entirely.

Dean shuddered at the memory and returned to the present. He had been foolish unthinking it would not follow him here. And while Dean knew that the hellhound was unable to harm his friends, Dean knew that supernatural entities were drawn to him now the deal had been struck.

Dean sighed softly. He hoped that this would be the last time he saw his old friend - Dean did not want to return, hoped that when he finally did heave his twisted soul back to the surface his family would be long dead.

Shaking and silent, Dean left at 4:39 and didn't look back.

* * *

Eliot was mad for a whole week after Dean had made his getaway during the night. No one could work out how he had managed to sneak past all five of them when he had lost so much blood and was so badly injured. Needless to say, Eliot was mad.

Now when Parked said "mad", she didn't mean the shouting, throwing things and sulking kind of mad, oh no. It was much worse than that. Eliot was...quiet; he didn't growl or cuss, he didn't frown or glower and he most certainly did not cook...for a whole week. So needless to say Parker was feeling a little down herself. She had spent all of her time trying to cheer Eliot up, had done everything in her power to make him happy again...or whatever it was that Eliot was usually and now she was running out of ideas.

She frowned again at her notebook, scribbling black pen with some force over her latest plan. It simply wasn't good enough. It wouldn't work. It needed to be bigger, better and include more lemurs, but where would she get them at such short notice? Perhaps-

"Why don't you just call Dean?" Sophie said suddenly from behind her.

Parker jolted in her seat and swivelled to face the other woman, "What?" She asked blandly.

"Call Dean, let him know that his little disappearing act and **_pitiful_** goodbye note has bloody well gone and broken our friendly neighbourhood hitter." She said with folded arms. Dean's note had been pretty terrible, written on a crumpled yellow paper napkin from the kitchen:

_Stuff to do, chicks to bang. I've got new scars to show off and bro-hugs cannot sustain me._

_Catch you later and thanks for the whiskey._

_D._

Sophie sighed at Parker's still blank look, and sat beside her. "I'll do it if you want."

"Do what?" She said, unsure what Sophie was talking about.

"Call Dean, tell him to fix Eliot before we all go stark raving mad!" She moaned dramatically.

"Um, okay but I don't think Dean is a doctor." Parker said seriously, "I mean he seems to know a lot about patching people up but-"

Sophie rolled her eyes and cut her off, "Parker, I just mean, Dean might be able to talk some sense back into him or at least snap him out of his pissy mood."

Parker widened her eyes, "_Oh_," she said softly. "No, I want to talk to him."

* * *

Sam was typing furiously when the phone rang.

"Dean!" He bellowed, not looking away from the screen. When there was no answer and the ridiculously annoying ACDC kept spewing from the phone's deceptively small speakers Sam yelled again, "Dean answer your fucking phone or its going out the window!"

"Dude, chill. Can't a man sleep in piece?" Dean yelled back. He stumbled into the doorway and glowered at Sam, "Dude it's right next to you." He said, unbelieving.

"Dean, one, it's your phone and two, it's 3 in the afternoon, you've been asleep for like, 12 hours, whereas I-" here Sam had to raise his voice even further to be heard as the ringtone reached a particularly extravagant guitar solo, "I have been working to find a way to stop you from becoming a **_hellhound's chew toy_**!"

"Oh bitch, bitch, bitch, aren't you a ray of sunshine in the morning?"

"Afternoon Dean! Did you forget the fact you've been sleeping for 12 hours?" Sam yelled before muttering viciously under his breath "_asshole_".

"Dickwad!" Dean bellowed back as Dean ambled away and the music finally, finally stopped.

"Thank **_fuck_** for that." Sam muttered, fingers flying over the keyboard.

* * *

"Whoever this is it better be good, I could be sleeping right now." Dean muttered tiredly.

"Dean whoever-you-are Winchester you've broken our hitter and I demand a full refund or I'm going to track you down and steal your face!"

"What the hell? Parker, is that you?" Dean asked, slumping back onto the bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. He stared at the ceiling and tried not to feel sick.

"Eliot's mad, like super mad, like super I'm-never-going-to-cook-ever-again mad. Fix him right now or I'm going to steal your face and make it into a pair of **_shoes_** for Sophie!" She repeated huffing.

Dean blinked as he tried to process all of that information. Choosing to ignore her last threat as it was a fucking horrifying idea, Dean instead, said with a whine, "Ah man, he's stopped cooking. He's so pissed at me."

"It's all your fault." She said pitifully. "If he's broken forever its all your fault and I'll never forgive you even if you did have a nice butt."

Dean laughed once, a harsh sound before he sighed and rubbed his mouth.

He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully he tried to explain, "Look, I know it doesn't make sense, and I know it isn't fair, but it wasn't safe for you or your team to have me there. I appreciate everything you all did for me that night but I had to go. I had to."

"Eliot could have protected you from whoever is after you. That's his _**job**_, it's what he does!"

"Not from this. Not from-" He stopped, broke off and swore quietly. "Parker, look I am sorry but there's nothing I can do now. Just...will you tell him I'm sorry and that...that I'm okay?"

There was a long pause and all Dean could hear was Parker's soft breathing. There was a slow inhale and then a small "okay" before the line went dead.

Well, Dean thought, **fuck**.

* * *

**A/N**: So...yeah.


End file.
